“Which we don’t—because you filled half the storage with those crates.” Liam’s mouth twisted into a nervous smile. He looked at the stacked cases with guilt in his eyes. They weren’t just cargo—they were the reason the backup sail had been left behind.
Ethan sighed, already reaching for the radio. The static crackled before a calm, official voice came through, confirming their coordinates and promising assistance. Four hours. “Stay put,” the voice said. “We’ll get to you.” Ethan set the mic aside, the silence that followed pressing down like a weight.